


Hobbit Song-Inspired Ficlets

by XavierJace



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Battle of Azanulbizar happened, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Character Death, F/M, Gold Sickness, Half Elf/Half Dwarf Character, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Polyamory, Sometimes BoFA is canon, Trans Male Character, messing with timelines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 17:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 17,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6088957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XavierJace/pseuds/XavierJace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Literally what the title says, since I haven't thought of a better one yet. Feel free to give me suggestions.</p><p>I know some of these kind of suck, but this is mainly practice and a way to get feedback, since I haven't done much writing in about a year and a half, plus I've never written for Hobbit/LoTR before.</p><p>Tags will be updated where need be. Individual tags will be at the beginning of each chapter.</p><p>Don't worry, not everything is in an everybody lives AU, and not all will be CanonXOC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where I Can't Follow

**Author's Note:**

> ThorinXKirlun (OC)
> 
> NOT an everybody lives AU. Figured I'd give that head's up right now.  
> Half Dwarf/Half Elf Character  
> Trans Male Character  
> Gold Sickness
> 
> There were a few places where I wanted to end this, but that ending was sticking around in my head for a while, and I really wanted to include it, so I basically ended up dragging things out until I could pull it off.

> _Ohh... it takes you to another place._   
>  _Ohh... it takes you far away from me._   
>    
>  _Why do you go where I can't follow?_   
>  _I hate to watch you fall apart._   
>  _Oh, why must you bear this burden alone?_   
>  _Oh, you know it breaks my heart..._
> 
> \- "Where I Can't Follow" - Amy Kuney

 

* * *

He was a guard, the Lionheart. It was his duty to protect the King, but in this way, he had failed.

Thorin had managed to stop Kirlun from going with the company, leaving the half-dwarf to find his own way. A roundabout trip on horseback going north around Mirkwood brought him to Erebor a week after it was reclaimed, Smaug's body already at the bottom of the lake, and Dale in the midst of being repopulated.

Most of the company found his loophole rather entertaining as he told them, but Kirlun was still regularly glancing past their shoulders in search of the last of the 13 that had left Ered Luin.

"He's in the treasury," Fíli told him later on, as if he could read the younger dwarf's mind. "I'd tell you not to go find him, but we both know you won't listen to me."

And so Kirlun stood in front of the treasury, the dark wooden doors looming over him, warning him, telling him to turn back. He knew. No one had to say it, but if Thorin had locked himself up in the treasury and wasn't leaving, it was obvious that he had succumbed to the gold sickness.

Kirlun may have been able to protect Thorin from orcs, goblins, assassins, thieves, and the occasional elf that he didn't need to be protected from anyway, but he couldn't protect the King from himself.

Weapons and armour were left silently by the door, leaving him in his tunic, trousers, and boots. He had seen what madness could do to people, making them see threats where none existed. So he would do everything possible to make himself as harmless as possible. He didn't want to be seen as a threat.

All it took was for the soft leather of his elf-made boots to slip, sending him sliding down a pile of coins for the tip of a sword to find itself pointed at Kirlun's bare throat. So much for that plan, then.

"What are you doing here, thief?" Thorin's voice rumbled, more of a deeper growl than the other remembered it being.

"I am no thief, my King," Kirlun replied, doing his best to stay calm. The intricate braids in his hair fell around his shoulders, keeping some of the flat locks from falling into his face. Obviously, Thorin didn't recognize him, and the way things seemed to be going, may just end up mistaking him for a full-blooded elf, or a female. After all, he certainly looked like one.

As expected, Thorin's eyes narrowed, sword pressing closer as it forced Kirlun to shuffle back, head tipped up. There was something about the vulnerability that he couldn't stand. It had nothing to do with Thorin being there, per se. The fact that he wasn't himself at that point was the issue.

"And what other purpose would an elf have in my halls, if not to steal from me?"

Absently, Kirlun's hand moved to the loose braid that fell over his shoulder, and the silver bead on the end. He swallowed slightly, trying to find the words that had abandoned him. His stomach gave a sickening lurch when he realized that the matching braid Thorin had worn was gone.

_Did he take it out so if something happened no one would think to look for me, or...?_

"I am no elf, your Highness," he forced out, the feeling of nervousness in his chest only growing with every passing moment. "Do you not recognize me?"

He could only watch, following the icy gaze as Thorin's eyes drifted down to the braid and bead before darkening.

"You are not, elf," he growled - it didn't escape Kirlun's notice that he still avoided using a name, as if to hide his identity and protect him-, "I forced him to stay behind."

"You made me promise I wouldn't go with the company," the brunet replied. "I made no promises about going on my own, which is what I did." If anything, that just made the glare harden. Nonetheless, the sword moved, allowing Kirlun to stand from where he was half sprawled on the exposed section of the stone floor.

Carefully, he stepped closer, daring to make eye contact as they faced each other. Kirlun stood a couple inches taller than his King, due to his mixed blood. Softly, he mumbled a few soft phrases in Khuzdul, hoping it would work in convincing Thorin. After all, the language was sacred, and never taught to a non-dwarf.

For the barest of moments, he could have sworn he saw the old flicker of life spark in his One's eyes, but it was gone as fast as it appeared.

"Please come back to me, Thorin," Kirlun murmured. "I know you're in there. You are not this sickness, it cannot control you."

The King's eyes narrowed as he shoved Kirlun away. He took the hint, swallowing as he bowed before leaving, picking up his things on the way out.

\-------------

When Thranduil arrived, the Arkenstone in his possession, Kirlun felt something inside himself break when he saw Thorin's reaction. For a moment, he honestly started to find himself believing that the King Under the Mountain was beyond saving.

\-------------

The battle waged outside. Thorin retreated to the throne room, and Dwalin followed him. Kirlun stayed behind, near the gate with the others. They talked to each other, trying to figure out what to do, while he just stared at a crumbling pillar on the other side of the great cavern hall.

Normally, he was good at paying attention, and not much got past him, but he didn't even realize it when Fíli and Kíli sat down on either side of him. Not until they spoke, anyway.

"He's not beyond saving, you know," Fíli stated, and Kíli laughed a bit when Kirlun startled. "Dwalin followed him to see if he could talk some sense into him."

Kirlun blinked slowly, staring at the floor. His mind wandered back to a couple days previous, and the King's reaction then. He couldn't imagine this having a different end result.

"I kind of feel like a traitor," he said suddenly, trying to change the subject away from Thorin's madness. A small smile slipped onto his face, a sad smile, but a smile all the same. "I mean, you two are my best friends, and here I am, more or less completely in love with your uncle. Even with this madness."

"It is a bit awkward," Kíli laughed, "since out of the three of us, you're the youngest-"

"By less than a week," Kirlun interrupted, sticking his tongue out.

"Either way you're the youngest, and he's a hundred years older."

"It's still funny though," Fíli replied. "We spent so long getting after both of you to find someone, but we weren't expecting, well... this."

Kirlun opened his mouth with another smart response, but was cut off when Dwalin returned. No words were exchanged, but the way he shook his head said it all.

_This didn't look good._

An hour later, when Thorin returned, he wasn't wearing the extra robes and furs, or his crown. For all the world, he looked like the dwarf that Kirlun had found himself falling for almost three years ago.

To say he was surprised when Thorin asked them to follow him into battle was an understatement. Although, going by the reactions of the others, it was obvious that he wasn't alone.

\-------------

Yet again, he failed. Not only had he failed to save his King, his One, from the madness that had begun to consume him, but he had also failed to save the same dwarf and his nephews from the cold embrace of death. Elf magic was useful, but it had its limitations. Once someone was dead, they stayed dead.

He stayed for the funeral, but left after. With the King and his heirs dead, the throne would pass to Dain Ironfoot. On multiple occasions, the Lord of the Iron Hills said that having a Lionheart would be nothing more than a burden. So Kirlun decided to spare him the burden. Leaving, however, could be considered an act of treason. He would never be allowed to set foot in Dwarven lands again. That meant that Rivendell would be his only option. His mother's side of the family, as well as his brother, lived there, and he could spend the rest of his life in relative safety among the elves.

\-------------

Five years later found Kirlun in Rivendell, raising a pair of twin dwarflings. Both boys were identical; tall for their age, black hair, and blue eyes. And of course, they had to share a birthday with their father.

He hadn't realized he was with child when he left Erebor. If he had known, he may have considered staying; until they were born, if nothing else. The time was long gone anyway, though, and there wasn't anything he could do that would change it.

Kirlun and Thorin had never officially married, which meant that the twins were considered illegitimate. Even though they were identical to Thorin, which in any other circumstance would have been enough to prove their lineage, they would have no claim to the throne. And thereby no reason to return to the Lonely Mountain.

As children of the late King and a traitor (for that's exactly what a Lionheart that abandoned his post was), their very existence could cause an uproar, if not an outright rebellion. 

No, it would be safer to raise them in Imladris. There bloodlines would be of no consequence, nor would their abilities.

One thought that gave Kirlun some comfort at least, was that Azog had lost. The pale orc had tried to wipe out the line of Durin, and though the records would say that he succeeded, in truth, he failed. In secret, the line would continue.

\-------------

Of course it only took 72 more years for everything to fall apart. One last battle for Middle Earth, and he couldn't stop his sons from fighting. They were young, and Kirlun was still in his prime, so he followed them. Either he would stay alive to keep the twins safe, or they would end up going to the Halls of Waiting together.

As much as Kirlun hoped for the former, the Valar had other plans. And so as he lay there, clutching his children as the three of them began to fade, only one thing escaped his cracked and bloodied lips.

_"We'll be seeing your father soon..."_


	2. Child of the Valley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KíliXBriar (OC)
> 
> Everybody lives AU  
> Messing with timelines  
> Making Merry and Pippin orphans too because I'm an asshole.

 

> _Y_ _ou’re not a stone_  
>  _You’re not a stone_  
>  _Just flesh and bone_  
>  _Just flesh and bone_
> 
> \- "Child of the Valley" - The Wooden Sky 

* * *

They were back in the Shire, and Briar knew she should have felt happy. After all, even though Bilbo had to track down most of their belongings, she and her brother were home.

As expected, the dwarvish courting braid in her hair drew glances and gossip from the neighbours, but even though she hated the attention, she couldn't bring herself to take it out. From her point of view, it was something that represented 7 months where she really felt at peace, and truly loved.

The hole in her heart, and the fear were too great, that she hadn't stayed to see if the three of them would wake up. Balin said they probably wouldn't, and that was enough for both the hobbits.

Returning to news that she and Bilbo were named the guardians of their three newly orphaned cousins seemed to be a little much for Briar at first, but she wouldn't deny that having Frodo, Merry, and Pippin around helped to fill the void the dwarves had left in her heart.

\-------------

It was almost a year after returning, and as per most Sundays, Briar took the fauntlings to the market. Frodo and Merry tried to act strong by each carrying a bag, while Briar carried Pippin and the other bag.

When she opened the front door to Bag End, she set Pippin down so he could try and race the others to the pantry, giggling to herself as she followed to help the boys put things away. From the dining room, she could hear hushed voices, but didn't think anything of it. Bilbo  _was_ trying to get his respectable reputation back, after all.

With everything put away, Briar watched as Frodo, Merry, and Pippin raced down the halls - the youngest stumbling as he still did -, and she raised an eyebrow as Frodo ran back, practically bouncing in excitement.

"Auntie Briar!" he giggled. "There are dwarfs in the dining room! Dwarfs!"

"I think the word you're looking for is _dwarves_ ,Frodo, not  _dwarfs,_ " she smiled. "But it would be rude to ignore our guests, let's go." In all honesty, the hobbit thought that the boy was seeing things. After all, the quest was over, what purpose would any of the company have in stopping in to see them? Especially considering it would require going out of their way by a few months for a round trip.

She didn't know what she had actually expected to see, but the all-too-familiar manes of blond and brown hair belonging to the dwarves sitting with their backs to her definitely weren't on that list. After all, when you think someone is dead, you wouldn't expect to see them not only alive and well, but sitting at your dining room table talking to your brother while three fauntlings bounce around excitedly.

Bilbo looked up when he heard his sister's choked sob coming from the doorway, and managed to pry the three enthralled fauntlings away from the brother and take them from the room. Fíli followed, helping bribe them into giving his brother and their aunt some privacy.

Staring at the floor in shock, Briar only looked up when a pair of muddy boots entered her line of sight. Green eyes met brown as she sniffled, doing her best to remain composed - up until she gave in to the rush of emotion and threw her arms around the dwarf's neck, sobbing almost helplessly into his shoulder.

She apologized after a moment, blushing as his hand brushed against the braid in her hair, and the silver bead at the end.

"You left it in," he murmured with a soft smile, and she nodded.

"I couldn't bring myself to take it out," she admitted shyly. "It felt like I was denying everything that had happened between us."

Looking down and off to the side in embarrassment, Briar felt her face hear up as a hand tilted her face up. When a pair of lips pressed against her own, it took her a few moments to figure out what was going on before she kissed back.

\-------------

"So," Fíli brought up later that night, once the fauntlings were in bed, "what do you two think about going back to Erebor with us?"

"We'd love to," Bilbo replied, knowing full well that Briar felt the same way, "but we need to run it by Frodo and Merry first."

"Pip's still too young to know what's going on, but if we leave, we'll be uprooting them from all they've ever known," Briar explained. "Even though we'd try and come back for the summer every few years, they still deserve to have a say in this."

"Gandalf will be here in a couple weeks for Bell's birthday party," Bilbo said after a moment. "How about we ask the boys in the morning, and give them until then to decide? If they still want to go, I'm sure that Gandalf wouldn't mind going with us to help keep an eye on them. He's grown rather fond of Frodo the past couple times he's visited, after all."

\-------------

When asked at breakfast the next morning, Merry and Frodo seemed like they would be willing to leave for Erebor at that very moment.

"We wanna go to dwarf mountain!" Merry giggled, causing Fíli and Kíli to look at each other and snicker, while Bilbo just sighed.

"I've lost count of how many times I've told you two that the proper name is 'Erebor.' Why must you insist on doing that?"

"Oh, come on, Master Boggins," Kíli teased, - prompting a squeal of mixed offense and laughter from Frodo - "he's not wrong, even if translations make it refer to somewhere else."

The older hobbits each raised an eyebrow, while the younger ones burst into fits of giggles.

"If you don't translate it literally into Khuzdul, you get the name we have for Moria," Fíli explained, "which, obviously, is in a completely different place."

\-------------

Time started to pass fairly quickly, and once they were convinced to leave behind the boots, weapons, and extra layers, it didn't take long for the princes to win over most of Hobbiton, as well as the Tooks and Brandybucks of Briar and Bilbo's family.

The night before the party, the fauntlings were still determined that they wanted to go through with the move, so they started packing what they would take with them. Besides the essentials, the things that absolutely refused to leave behind were pictures of Frodo's, Merry's, and Pippin's parents, Belladonna's glory box (Bilbo was still a bit upset about the fairly recent wear on the edge of the lid caused by Kíli's boot his first time in Bag End),  and a chest of weapons that Briar and Bilbo found in their mother's wardrobe _after_ returning to the Shire.

As had become usual, Fíli slept in the spare room, and Kíli stayed with Briar. By hobbit tradition, they were good as married (the ceremony was just a formality and an excuse for a party), even if they were only about halfway through Dwarven courting customs.

\-------------

The next morning, Briar took Fíli and Kíli down to the party tree to help get things set up, while Bilbo stayed behind with the fauntlings to wait for Gandalf, who would no doubt stop in as soon as he got to Hobbiton. While he was there, it was also decided that Bilbo would be the one to ask the wizard if he'd be willing to make another trip across Middle Earth.

This time around, though, they had a properly planned route that involved stops in Rivendell and Mirkwood (despite the brothers' protests) to make sure they wouldn't run out of food like last time. They had 11 less dwarves to feed, but there were three more hobbits; young ones at that, that needed a more steady supply of food than the adults.

Finally, the time came for the party, and what would be Bilbo's and Briar's last night in the Shire for a while. Bilbo made as many arrangements as possible, naming Frodo his heir (having very few doubts that the oldest fauntling would eventually return to the Shire to stay anyway - the other two most likely would as well, but it would be harder to say for sure, plus they didn't have relatives trying to steal a family house at every available opportunity), and leaving the care of Bag End while it was unoccupied to the Gamgees.

Part of what he did was making sure nothing would be auctioned off, but mostly it was to make sure that the Sackville-Bagginses would be kept out of the house. When they left the first time, there wasn't much in the way of time to make these arrangements.

When night fell and the party finally ended, they put the fauntlings to bed and put everything they were taking by the door, to be loaded into the wagon Gandalf had (for he was perfectly happy to help the five hobbits make a new home for themselves in the Lonely Mountain) the next morning before they left.

\-------------

Briar and Kíli were the first ones awake, the excitement and anticipation getting to them. For the time being, they snuck out to the garden, braiding flowers into each others hair in the dawn's early light.

Maybe the void in her heart would truly be completely repaired, and things would be alright after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, for the fauntlings thing, I saw that term in a damn good fic I read before (although I can't remember what one, I've read too many), and I guess it just sort of stuck in my head from there.
> 
> Also, trying to write Kíli in a serious moment is hard. I just keep seeing him as this little shit of a goofball who has a hard time being serious that it makes it nearly impossible to write him as much more than comedy relief. He's not the only one, though; I have the same issue with Bofur.


	3. Lover of the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KíliXTauriel
> 
> Everybody lives AU (even if it doesn't seem like it at first)  
> (Strongly) implied smut

 

> _I had done wrong_  
>  _You build your tower_  
>  _But call me home_  
>  _And I will build a throne_  
>  _And wash my eyes out never again_  
>    
>  _But love the one you hold_  
>  _And I'll be your goal_  
>  _To have and to hold_  
>  _A lover of the lights_
> 
> _-_ "Lover of the Light" - Mumford & Sons

* * *

 

She could only watch as the dwarf warriors took his body away, along with those of his brother and uncle. As much as she wanted to follow, the elf knew she would not be welcome in the halls of stone. And so she stayed where she was, tears still running down her cheeks.

A gentle hand settled on her shoulder, and brought her attention back to reality. Glancing back, she blushed slightly in embarrassment when she realized that it was one of the last elves she would have wanted to see her like that.

All she could do was nod to her prince, not trusting herself to speak. In her own mind, her situation was rather pathetic; 600 years of hard work destroyed in a matter of weeks - by a now dead dwarf, no less.

Her body moved of its own accord, getting up and following Legolas down the rocky slopes back to the camp the elves had set up just west of Dale. Unlike his father, who started questioning her as soon as she stepped among the green tents, he stayed quiet, giving her time to mourn. He may not have liked it, but he at least respected her emotions that much.

\-------------

It was almost a week before they packed up their camp and returned to the forest. Still, the former Captain (her banishment had been lifted, but she was still stripped of all titles, and would have to earn them as if she had never reached that rank before) could hardly tell what day it was. Everything passed by in a blur. It was obvious to anyone who knew her how much the young dwarf's death was affecting her. For one that lived life and vividly and passionately as Tauriel, the numbness that chilled her to the bone and glossed over her emerald gaze was almost frightening.

Has she been like that when her parents died as well? She had been barely more than an infant by elven standards then, so she couldn't remember.

\-------------

Three years passed, and moving back up the ranks was surprisingly quick. Enough so that when spring arrived, the Silvan elf found herself appointed to the guard that would accompany Legolas to Erebor for the sake of negotiating new trade routes. The current ones were infested with goblins, and few traders of either race would willingly make the journey. Not to mention that of those who did, few were able to keep their wares intact.

As far as her going along, Tauriel was sure that the Prince's affections for her were somehow involved. She of course had noticed his subtle attempts to court her, but continued to turn him down. Her heart had been taken, as far as she knew, its shattered remains would never be able to love again.

\-------------

During the negotiations, she was on high alert. Sensing all movement, seeing every detail. Even so, she did not register the faces she saw. Not truly.

If she had, she may have been in slightly higher spirits. She may have also been less surprised by the knock on her door on the third night.

Upon shifting the heavy wood and peering into the corridor, an almost painful lump caught in her throat.

"Kíli..." she murmured, swallowing. Her mind was still in a state of mild shock as he only grinned.

"Looks like Fee was right, after all," he smiled, slipping into the room when she opened the door wider. "He told me he'd been seeing you in the meeting the past couple days. I didn't really believe him, but decided to see for myself."

Tauriel blinked a couple times in surprise, mentally berating herself for not noticed the older prince earlier.

Only part of her brain registered what was going on as he pulled her down a few inches and kissed her. Thankfully, he was tall for a dwarf, and she was short by elf standards; average height for even one of them would have made things much more awkward.

After a moment (that was still far too short in her opinion), he pulled back, as if he hadn't meant to kiss her in the first place.

"I'm sorry," he apologized quickly, "I shouldn't have done that. It's been three years, you've probably moved on, -"

Repeated attempts to interrupt him failed, so she sighed and just kissed him again.

"Kíli," she whispered against his lips, "if I had moved on, which I assure you is not the truth, I would not have allowed you to kiss me in the first place."

He couldn't help but grin again, pulling a smile from her as well. After easily a dozen more kisses, and hands starting to wander, they pulled each other to the bed.

\-------------

Tauriel woke up slowly, as she she began to sit up, the dark hair tangled with hers alerted her to the young dwarf prince still asleep beside her, and subsequently, their lack of clothing.

A violent blush dusted her face, neck, and ears as she wondered if he was aware of the meaning behind their new-found intimacy in Elven culture. Before she could decide on how to ask him, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back down.

"Kíli," she murmured softly, trying to slide out of his grip, "I have to get up."

"No you don't," he groaned tiredly, burying his face in her chest.

"There are still negotiations to be made,  _meleth nin_ ," the redhead hummed, combing through his hair with her delicate fingers.

"So?"

"I am a member of the Royal Guard, I cannot just abandon my duty," she reminded him.

Grumbling, the prince pulled back, untangling their hair with relative ease. She kissed his forehead gently before getting up, gathering her clothes and weapons to get dressed for the day. She was completely aware of the fact that her every move was being watched, but she paid it no mind.

Carefully, she undid the remains of the braids in her hair and began to redo them, pausing as a hand was placed on her shoulder.

"There is a dwarven courting braid I'd like to put in your hair, if you'd have me," Kíli said, unable to hold back his grin as she nodded and turned to face him. While she was getting ready, he had also gotten up and put his clothes back on.

Taking seven small chunks of hair, he carefully weaved them into a braid more delicate than she originally thought dwarves capable of. Had it been made with only five strands, she could have easily mistaken it for an elven plait.

"Normally there would be a silver bead at the end of this," the dark haired archer explained as he finished, "but I didn't expect that I would ever see you again, so I didn't make one."

"I will have to return to the Woodland Realm once these negotiations are over, to get my belongings and inform the King of my intentions to return here," Tauriel reminded him, "there is nothing stopping you from making one whilst I am gone."

Kíli nodded, about to say something when a few knocks on the door interrupted him.

"Tauriel," the elven guard called, "the meetings are about to start in 10 minutes. Quit loitering in your room."

"I will be there in a moment!" she called back.

"Who was that?" Kíli asked, keeping his voice low in case the elf outside could still hear.

"Maethon," Tauriel explained. "He was my second in command while I was Captain, and took my place when I was banished."

Quickly, she finished getting ready and slipped out of her room, Kíli close behind. Maethon glanced between the two with distaste, and if he eyed the newest braid in Tauriel's hair, he didn't say anything about it.

\-------------

When Tauriel followed Legolas into the same hall as the day before, she not only heard the whispers that erupted, but felt them as well. The dwarves spoke in their sacred tongue, so she did not know what was being said. However, by the glances and stares thrown her way, she could easily guess. Looking towards the head of the table, she realized that not only could the King and Prince understand what was being said, but they probably were also aware of the story behind it.

Face tinged pink in embarrassment, Tauriel looked down at the table. Thorin cleared his throat, putting a halt to the whispers so the negotiations could begin.

\-------------

Both thankfully and not, they managed to come to an agreement by the end of the day. Tauriel knew that it meant she would be able to get her things and return sooner, but she also knew it meant she would be leaving the next morning.

"Uncle knows of my intentions," Kíli said suddenly, as they laid beside each other that night. "He doesn't really approve, with you being an elf and all, but he won't try to stop us. I told him I'd run away to be with you if I had to,  and he knows as well as I do that Fíli would come with me."

The elf blinked a couple times in surprise as she looked at the prince - her prince, in a sense. He just shrugged.

"Courting is a serious thing for dwarves. We won't start trying to court another unless we're set on spending the rest of our lives with them," he explained. Tauriel bit her lip almost nervously. This was the best chance she was about to get.

"About that..." she started, not sure where her words would go, "I'm not sure if you know or not, but in elven culture, we are already husband and wife. The bond is consummated when the couple are... intimate... with each other."

Kíli took a few moments to register what was being said, then grinned.

"Well then, looks like I'll definitely have to see you off in the morning," he joked.

"Are you implying that you may not have bothered, otherwise?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she tried not to laugh.

"I would have shown up either way," he assured her. "I just have to bring Mum with me now. She really wants to meet you, you know; and not just because you saved my life in Laketown."

"I would be honored."

"Well if we're technically married, you don't exactly have a choice," he laughed. "Oh, Thorin's going to love hearing about this."

 

 


	4. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FíliXKirlunXKíli
> 
> Everybody lives AU  
> Polyamorous dwarves

> _'Cause they say home is where your heart is set in stone_   
>  _Is where you go when you're alone_   
>  _Is where you go to rest your bones_   
>  _It's not just where you lay your head_   
>  _It's not just where you make your bed_   
>  _As long as we're together, does it matter where we go?_
> 
> \- "Home" - Gabrielle Aplin

* * *

Most dwarves had a single place they called home. Kirlun, however, was not most dwarves.

He was born and mostly raised in Ered Luin, so that was one place he considered home. He was also half elf, and spent a great deal of time with his mother's family. And so Rivendell was also a home for him. After this crazy suicide mission of a quest succeeded, Erebor would also join the ranks.

He had another home though, one that was a secret.

Nights were spent there, curled in warmth, surrounded by the two heirs of a kingdom they've never seen. It was lost almost 90 years before the oldest was even born.

\-------------

When Kirlun raced to Thranduil in the aftermath of the battle, pushing his mare as fast as she could run, it was partially out of selfishness, even if he wouldn't admit it.

As much as he knew Thorin would disagree with the half-dwarf's decision, he bartered three of the Elven King's best healers for the white gems of Lasgalen. If it would save the dwarven King and his nephews, Kirlun would have traded his very life if it was asked of him. Thankfully it didn't come to that, and promise of the starlight gems was enough.

When it was guaranteed that Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli were saved, and no longer on the brink of death, Kirlun handed over the gems without hesitation.

"Why did you do that?" Balin asked. "You know as well as I do that Thorin won't be pleased to learn you gave those gems to Thranduil, of all elves."

"Oh, I'm aware," the brunet replied almost nonchalantly, "but if I didn't, he and his nephews would be dead. We both know that they were beyond the help of dwarvish medicine, even if your pride won't let you admit it."

\-------------

Kíli woke first, and looked at the hands holding his own. He saw the mixture of braids in brown hair, and smiled when he realized that Kirlun had fallen asleep at his bedside.

Looking past the sleeping guard, he could see his brother, and his uncle further away. Both were still unconscious, but he was quickly assured by one of the doctors that they would be fine.

\-------------

It still took a few months before the brothers were allowed out of the infirmary. Of course, that first night was spent in quarters that were technically Fíli's. The princes faced each other, Kirlun curled between them, his head tucked under Fíli's jaw.

There was something about this sleeping arrangement that made them all feel more secure. It was the only place they could completely bare themselves, where they didn't have to worry about trying to hide the nature of their unusual relationship (they knew they'd have to come clean soon though, with Erebor reclaimed and the looming possibility of political marriages for either of the princes).

Kirlun had another home that was still a well-kept secret for the time being. That home was with Fíli and Kíli. Wherever the will of the Valar may take them, he would go too, right beside them every step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sappy as hell, I know. But something about this song only makes me think of sappy things. Go find it on YouTube or something if you don't believe me.


	5. You Can Let Go Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frerin/Kirlun
> 
> AU - Erebor never fell  
> Messing with timelines (Changed when Kirlun was born, and the time when his father died)  
> Angst

> _You can let go now, Daddy_   
>  _You can let go_   
>  _Oh, I think I'm ready_   
>  _To do this on my own_   
>  _It's still a little bit scary_   
>  _But I want you to know_   
>  _I'll be ok now, Daddy_   
>  _You can let go_
> 
> _-_ "You Can Let Go Now, Daddy" - Crystal Shawnda

* * *

As annoying as Frerin found it (for the blond had a tendency to make his emotions obvious), Kirlun couldn't help but find his father's protectiveness almost endearing. After all, this was the dwarrow that taught him how to wield an axe, a sword, a hammer, spear, knife, and how to shoot a bow. This was the dwarrow that  taught him everything he knew, and he couldn't fault him for that.

But it only took one night for everything to fall apart.

Kirlun knew his father was getting old, even if he tried not to show it. The brunet stood next to Frerin, holding his hand and glanced at the blond prince as Thrain made his speech to the crowd. There was a bit of a commotion near the back, and a flash of silver, before everything froze.

Even in his old age, Kirlun's father was able to move quick enough to jump in front of the King, taking the attack himself. A thin needle stuck out of his neck, and Kirlun recognized it immediately. They had been having trouble with a band of assassins in the mountain that used those needles, but they were so sure the guards had caught the last of them.

Pulling away from Frerin, Kirlun dropped to his knees at his father's side.

"Kirlun..." the old dwarrow croaked, "you've done so well... I just wish I could... watch you do so much more..."

"'Adad," Kirlun murmured, not even paying attention to what was going on around him as he took one of the larger hands in his own, "don't speak. Spare yourself the pain."

Still, the old Lionheart tried to keep talking, his son repeatedly hushing him.

"I'll be okay," he murmured quietly, "you can let go. Yes, I'm scared, but I'll be fine. Let go, please. It's killing me to watch you suffer."

It was a fast acting poison on the needle, meant to kill Thrain before they could even get an antidote, so there were only moments before Dorvur closed his eyes and took his last breath.

\-------------

That night, when Kirlun laid in bed with Frerin, he ended up crying himself to the point of exhaustion in his One's embrace. When sleep finally took him, it was not dreams that played behind his eyes.

\-------------

_"Feet a bit further apart - not that far! Good, now bend your knees a bit, and relax your shoulders," a much younger Dorvur instructed a young beardless dwarfling with pointed ears reminiscent of an elf's._

_"Alright, now charge at the dummy, going for the middle. Very good, Kirlun!"_

_The half-dwarf grinned, excited by his father's praise._

_The large oak doors of the training hall groaned as they opened, closing with a resounding boom, and the two were no longer alone. The princes walked in, ready to spar like they did every day. For a number of reasons, none of which made sense to Kirlun, no one stuck around while the royal family was in there. As he was led out, he couldn't stop himself from looking back and watching with interest._

_\-------------_

_All around him were the upper class dwarves of all seven clans, talking and laughing. Kirlun stood off to the side in his best clothes, feeling out of place with his elf made tunic. Not to mention that he wasn't one for large festivities such as this._

_However, it was the coming of age ceremony for Prince Thorin, and as the child of the Lionheart, he didn't really have a choice but to attend._

_"Well, someone certainly looks uncomfortable," a voice chuckled. Kirlun jumped, surprised that the younger prince, Frerin, was actually talking to him._

_"Y-your Highness," he stuttered, starting to bow before the prince stopped him._

_"Please, just call me Frerin," he grinned. "Don't think I don't know who you are. It's not often a half-elf walks these halls. Besides, the Lionheart's heir tends to be pretty memorable. Especially if he's as good looking as you."_

_Kirlun had heard stories of the young prince's tendency to flirt with anything that moved, but he hadn't exactly believed them, or even imagined that he would be on the receiving end of such attention._

_\-------------_

_Ten years. For ten years, Frerin continued trying to woo Kirlun. The brunet wouldn't admit it for most of that time, but the blond's attempts were certainly working._

_To say that Dorvur was unimpressed when his son returned home one night with a courting braid in his hair was an understatement. He was practically spying on the two when they were together, making sure Frerin didn't try anything._

_The council didn't approve of Kirlun and Frerin. Their relationship brought a chance of the Lionheart and King Consort being one and the same, which to them, was something that should never happen._

_A few months later, during his own coming of age ceremony, Frerin abdicated his place in the line of royal succession. Even Kirlun was shocked, but he shrugged, explaining that he didn't want to be King, and would have done it anyway._

_\-------------_

_Four more years passed, and Kirlun came of age. The celebrations ended, and there was less than a week before he and Frerin married._

_Only then did Dorvur stop being overprotective. Even so, he still liked to intimidate the blond prince, making sure he knew that the Lionheart was a father first, and then a guard._

_\-------------_

Kirlun barely slept the night before his father's funeral, but he managed to pull himself together and make sure he looked presentable. When all was said and done, he was named the Lionheart, and had one hell of a legacy to live up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask why this song. I was going for a drive with my grandmother, and this ended up on the radio, and all I could think of was this. Although, I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.


	6. I See Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Pairing
> 
> Character Death

> _Now I see fire_   
>  _Inside the mountain_   
>  _I see fire_   
>  _Burning the trees_   
>  _And I see fire_   
>  _Hollowing souls_   
>  _I see fire_   
>  _Blood in the breeze_   
>  _And I hope that you remember me_
> 
> \- "I See Fire" - Ed Sheeran

* * *

 

"First came the gusts of wind, stripping the very needles off the trees along the mountain. Following it was a great, bellowing roar. That was all the warning we got before everything was thrown into a frenzy of madness. Dwarves rushed to find their families and take cover or get out of the mountain before the dragon came.

Prince Frerin, Mahal watch over him in the Halls of Waiting, tried to sneak along with the guards that stood against that damned beast. I had to grab the blasted fool by the collar and half drag him away while I carried Lady Dís in my other arm. I had been able to keep tabs on the royal family until that point, but next thing I know, King Thror runs back to the throne room so he can grab the Arkenstone, and Prince Thorin ran off after him. He did it to try and drag him back out, granted, but I didn't know it at the time, and cursed the both of them all the same.

We made it out before Smaug burst in, but only just. Both the King and Prince Consorts had been crushed by flying rubble when the front gate was destroyed. It was nearly impossible to get Thrain away from that spot while I had to keep hold of his youngest children, but I can't really blame him for that. I would have been the same if I had to watch my wife and mother be killed in front of me like that.

Thranduil and his army stood on the overlook, just watching what happened. Thorin shouted, practically pleading - or at least as close to pleading as he'd ever get - for them to help us. Instead, the beardless bastard just turned around and left us for dead. Just remember, not all elves are bad; just the ones from the Woodland Realm.

As for what happened after that... well, you four all know what happened to our kin."

Dorvur smiled at the dwarflings, all of whom had been hanging on to his every word. It was understandable for Gimli, who had never heard the story before. Kirlun, Fíli, and Kíli, on the other hand... he lost count of how many times he told those three.

\-------------

It took half a century, but Kirlun was finally able to see the mountain he enjoyed hearing so much about in his youth.His hand tightened on the shaft of his halberd almost nervously before turning his mare, having her trot down from the overlook towards the menacing ruins of the gate.

A fond smile made its way onto his lips as the brunet recalled the storied his father had told him. However, it soon faded as he remembered how many of his kin had been killed there. Only the steps of his horse were heard as he payed his silent respects to the dead.

Smaug was dead, he knew that much for he had seen the dragon fall. Of the company, he did not know how many -if any- were still alive. He found himself hoping that they were still alive, although logic told him that 13 dwarves didn't stand a chance where a small army had failed before. Nonetheless, he payed careful attention to his surroundings, watching and listening for any disturbance in the eerie calm.

"Who's there?" a gruff voice barked. Kirlun sighed; he should have known.

"Stand down, Dwalin," he ordered, for the Lionheart ranked above the Captain of the Royal Guard.

"Kirlun?" the dwarf asked, rounding a corner as the half-dwarf dismounted. "Ye know, Thorin ain't gonna be impressed that yer here."

"I figured," Kirlun replied, "but I promised that I wouldn't go with the company. I never said I wouldn't go on my own."

"He won' be pleased to hear ye went the whole way on yer own, either."

"It's too late to change anything though, so he'll have to deal with it. Besides, I have important news, and he'd probably like the warning," Kirlun said. "How are the others?"

"Far as I know, everyone's alive. Bofur, Oin, Fíli, and Kíli were still in Laketown, so it's hard to say fer them," Dwalin explained, taking Kirlun to what was left of the stables. Most of the area was in ruins, but a couple stalls were still good. The half-dwarf untacked his grullo mare and set her up in one of these before going with Dwalin to find Thorin.

After all, there was an army of Orcs and an army of Woodland Elves, both marching towards Erebor. As King, he had a right to know, so they would have time to prepare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, you should have seen this one coming. I think this was the first idea I had fic-wise for this fandom, I just never got around to writing it until now.


	7. Iridescent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Pairing
> 
> Major Character Death

> _You were standing in the wake of devastation_  
>  you were waiting on the edge of the unknown  
>  And with the cataclysm raining down  
>  Your insides crying "Save me now"  
>  You were there impossibly alone  
>  \- "Iridescent" - Gavin Mikhail

* * *

From her place at the head of the caravan, it took Dís everything she had to not race ahead as soon as the mountain came into view. It had been just over a year; she longed to see her brother and sons again.

Seeing Thorin, she couldn't help but pull him into a tight embrace, even if he did look like he had been through hell and back. When she pulled back, her eyes started searching for her boys. Unable to find them, her mind jumped to the worst conclusion she could come up with - that they had been severely injured, and were both still in the infirmary.

"Where?" she asked, voice shaking in her nervousness. Thorin looked down before turning around and leading her towards (she presumed) the infirmary. Given that she was only 10 when Erebor was lost, it wasn't her fault she couldn't remember where anything was.

It was when they began delving below even the cellars that she realized something was wrong. Only when they entered the catacombs did she truly begin to understand the situation. Dís followed her brother for what seemed like ages, barely even glancing at the ancient tombs they passed.

He stopped her in front of the most recent tomb, and her breath caught in her throat. Thorin didn't move as his sister ran past him, sinking to her knees as she read the names engraved in the stone; inseparable in life, the brother had been laid to rest together.

Tears ran down Dís' face as she rested her forehead against the cold stone.

"What happened?" she asked after a while. "I want to know h-how they..."

She couldn't bring herself to say it.

"They were protecting me," Thorin answered, voice low as he struggled to keep his composure.

"They threw themselves in front of orc blades that were meant for me. I did everything I could to try and save them, I even went to the damned  _elves_ for help, but it wasn't enough."

The King's voice broke as he knelt beside his sister, wiping his own tears away as he held her sobbing form close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I know that writing (and posting) this was a dick move, but I had the idea, and couldn't stop myself. Blame the plot bunnies.


	8. Icarus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kirlun/Fíli (only really hinted at)
> 
> Would "Elf Legends" be a tag? Because that's the main one.  
> Also, Fíli and Kíli (especially Kíli) are idiots, as per usual.

> _Icarus is flying too close to the sun_  
>  _And Icarus's life, it has only just begun_  
>  _And this is how it feels to take a fall_  
>  _Icarus is flying towards an early grave  
>   
> _ \- "Icarus" - Bastille

* * *

 

"You two are getting too reckless," Kirlun confronted the brothers. "Keep it up, and you'll end up getting yourselves killed."

"Oh come on, Kirlun," Kíli laughed, "stop getting upset, we were just goofing off."

"You almost fell face first into the fire!" the brunet exclaimed, muttering to himself after.

"What?" Fíli asked, not sure what the half-dwarf had said.

"I called him _Olthedir_ ," Kirlun explained. "Didn't I tell you guys that legend?" Both dwarves shook their heads. Fíli pulled Kirlun into  his lap, nuzzling the other's shoulder as Kíli whined. They both knew that Kirlun was about to end up telling them the legend that he had referenced, since he did have a bit of a storyteller streak. Although, going by the name, it was an elven legend; neither of them were looking forward to it for that reason, Kíli was just more vocal about it.

"It happened close to the creation of the universe, before Hobbits, Orcs, Men, or even Dwarves walked on the land of Middle Earth. At that time, it was just the first Elves and wildlife. Olthedir was one of these first elves, and until then, it was believed that his race was indestructible, not just immortal.

One thing that Olthedir wanted to do, more than anything, was fly. He wanted to see the world from higher than any mountain peak. On the eve of his 600th birthday, he managed to create a contraption that would do just that. The problem was, the stationary pieces were held together with wax. It was lightweight, and a lot sturdier in that time, so in theory, it would work.

No elf had yet to die, and that fact only contributed to Olthedir's arrogance. The following morning, he took his contraption and climbed the highest mountain he could see. With his flying machine strapped to his back, Olthedir took a running start and leaped from the mountainside."

"Let me guess," Kíli interrupted, "it didn't work, and the idiot fell to his death."

Sighing and shaking his head, Kirlun continued.

"It worked, and Olthedir flew with the birds. He soared over Middle Earth, from the Grey Havens to what would much later become known as the Iron Hills. At one point, near the center of the land, he wanted to see how high up he could go.

And so Olthedir flew up, higher and higher, above where even the birds dared to go, steadily towards the sun. Eventually he got too close, and the heat melted the wax, causing his contraption to fall apart.

As he plummeted towards the mountains, for he had been above the Misty Mountains, Olthedir realized the error of his ways, and begged the Valar for forgiveness. They ignored his pleas, making sure his death sent a message to the elves. They may have been immortal, but they could still be killed. Needless to say, the elves have made sure to keep their arrogance in check since, lest a similar fate befall them."

"So, you're telling me that the dumbass didn't realize heat melts wax?" Kíli laughed. Kirlun rolled his eyes, glancing back when he could feel Fíli struggling not to crack up.

"I don't know what he thought," Kirlun replied, "but you two fuckwads made me think of him."


	9. Kingdom Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin/Kirlun
> 
> No major warnings that I can think of.

> _Don't you fret, my dear  
>  It'll all be over soon  
> I'll be waiting here for you_
> 
> \- "Kingdom Come" - The Civil Wars

* * *

 

Kirlun wasn't a stranger to running if the situation called for it. Unlike most dwarves, he knew when he didn't stand a chance, or when something was a trap. In those cases, he wasn't afraid to run. Not if it meant he could survive to fight another day.

On Ravenhill, he was determined to go with Fíli and Kíli, to scope out the seemingly abandoned watch tower. Out of the three of them, he was only one with enough sense to listen to his instincts, and would flee if they told him to. No way would he stand idly by and watch them die.

"Let's go back," he said, glancing along the narrow stairway. "I have a bad feeling about this, and if something happens, there's no room to fight."

As he anticipated, the brothers were determined to keep going. Kirlun began to drag them back, but a glow from around the corner made him stop. They had taken too long. Thorin had ordered them to return if they saw anything move, and this certainly counted as movement. Quickly, the half-dwarf turned around and pushed the princes, who took the hint and started running. Kirlun made the mistake of looking back over his shoulder to see how much of a head start they had, and his feet hit a rock, causing him to stumble to the floor.

\-------------

Fíli and Kíli made it back, but Thorin wasn't about to leave without Kirlun. As soon as he opened his mouth to ask his nephews about the guard's whereabouts, the pale orc appeared at the top of the tower, dragging the brunet by the hair.

Azog dragged Kirlun to his feet, thinking he had all the time he could want to taunt Thorin.

"I'll kill your half-breed, Oakenshield," the Defiler hissed in his crude tongue, meaning coming across clearly despite the language barrier, "and then your nephews, then you. Just like with your brother, grandfather, and father, you will watch them all die."

Kirlun still had a normal dagger and a tridagger (a right nasty piece of work with three cutting edges that met in a talon-like point - a weapon obviously meant for stabbing) hidden away on his person, and slipped them out while the orc gloated. In a quick movement, he reached back and stabbed Azog with the tridagger, twisting before pulling the blade out. When the grip on his hair didn't let go, the half-dwarf grimaced before taking his usual dagger and cutting through the strands in desperation.

As he fell, a few muttered phrases slowed him down so he wouldn't be killed (or seriously injured) by the impact of hitting the stone. Looking at the others as he dragged them down the rocky slopes, Kirlun realized that that was the first time he had called upon his ability to use elf-magic in front of a dwarf that wasn't his father.

\-------------

Needless to say, the Company hadn't been happy to see Kirlun's hair just brushing against his shoulders, but they stopped fretting as soon as he told them why.

"It was either this or get killed," he explained, "and hair will grow back. Besides, it's still long enough to braid."

A little later, the hobbit - Bilbo, Kirlun reminded himself - approached him while the others were occupied.

"I can even out your hair for you, if you'd like," he offered politely. "I-I mean, I know what dwarves are like with their hair, and I wouldn't want to do something that would be offensive, so don't feel like you have to accept-"

"It's fine, really," Kirlun smiled. "There are a few times where hair cutting is acceptable, and evening it out after an accident is one of those times. You wouldn't happen to have a pair of scissors, would you?"

It just so happened that the hobbit did, and Kirlun undid his remaining braids (the ends of most had been sliced off, and they soon unraveled) before sitting quietly and letting Bilbo work. When he was finished, the brunet's dark locks were less than an inch above his shoulders. He had only been a dwarfling the last time his hair was that short, so it felt strange. He would have to get used to it though, since hair took time to grow.

Thanking Bilbo, Kirlun went off in search of Thorin, hoping his One would help him put the braids back in.

And so Kirlun leaned against Thorin playfully as the King pushed back enough for him to be sitting upright again. His hair was too short for the elven plaits to go back in (Kirlun was the only one to be remotely upset by that), so Thorin happily put the courting braid on the outside, instead of behind Kirlun's ear. In addition to his usual braids, Kirlun also received a couple reserved for war-heroes, signifying his role in the battle that had just passed.

\-------------

It had to wait for the caravan from Ered Luin to arrive (mainly because Dís refused to miss either event), but Thorin's coronation was followed by a wedding less than a week later. With Kirlun's mother's family also in the mountain, things were a bit tense for a while, but the Lionheart did well at getting everything adjusted and working smoothly between the two races.

Many dwarves among the council had opposed Kirlun being able to wear his elven circlet, but they came to an agreement of a couple small sapphires being set  in the silver. The addition of the gems added a less elvish touch to the item, and appeased their complaints. With that out of the way and no longer an issue, Kirlun was rarely seen without it; when his hair regrew to the length where he could redo the plaits he wore before the Battle of the Five Armies, he eagerly took to his old hairstyle.

Braids of both cultures were worn with pride, right up until Kirlun died, shortly after Thorin passed from simple old age. By then, no one could bring themselves to take the braids out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I write with Kirlun a lot. He's just really easy to write (although the dialogue that doesn't make it into this stuff is much more entertaining), and yeah. I'm working on writing others, and stuff with no OC's. I'll get there.
> 
> Also, if you want a picture of the tridagger, just Google "Jagdkommando Tri-Dagger Knife." I saw a picture of one on Tumblr a while ago, and could definitely see Kirlun having one of those.


	10. Tears of an Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kíli/Briar
> 
> Almost character death, but not quite.  
> Everybody lives AU.

 

> _Cover my eyes_   
>  _Cover my ears_   
>  _Tell me these words are a lie_   
>  _It can't be true_   
>  _That I'm losing you_   
>  _The sun cannot fall from the sky_
> 
> \- "Tears of an Angel" - RyanDan

* * *

 

"No," was the only word to slip from the young hobbit's lips as she saw the dwarf prince's body being carried into the tent. He looked broken, limp and bloody as he was, and Briar could only stand there in shock. She refused to believe he was dead.

When the healers had done all they could, she took her place beside his cot. She missed more meals than she could count, and barely ate when her brother finally relented and brought the food to her. Everyone in the Company knew by then that willingly skipping meals, and barely eating otherwise was not usual hobbit behavior; it was obvious how distraught she was, even hidden behind the thin veil she tried to use to cover it.

Time blended together for Briar; minutes into hours, hours into days, maybe even days into weeks. She had no idea how long she remained at his bedside, refusing to move until he woke up, or was taken to be buried.

Thorin woke up first, Fíli a couple days later, but still Kíli remained unconscious. During that time, Briar was not alone, as either Fíli or Thorin would often be beside her, waiting for Kíli to awaken. Nothing was ever said, but it made her feel a bit better to know she wasn't the only one holding on.

A full month had passed, and still Briar stayed where she was, waiting, pleading, _begging_  the Valar to let go of him, to let Kíli wake up. She sung to him softly every night they were alone, and this was no different. As she finished, her voice fading to silence, Briar could have sworn she felt his hand tighten around hers slightly.

Just as the hobbit was about to believe she imagined it, a small, weak groan startled her.

"Kíli?" she asked softly, heart pounding wildly in her chest. 

"Briar?" he mumbled, opening his eyes and peering at her in the dim light. Leaning forward, she kissed him gently.

"I'll be right back," she promised, running off to find Fíli and Thorin. Honey colored curls bounced wildly as she raced through the halls, feet slapping the cold stone with every step, but not making as much noise as one would expect.

"Kíli's awake!" she exclaimed when she found them. She was panting and out of breath from running the whole way, and had to struggle to keep up when the two dwarves jumped up and ran to the infirmary.

"Thorin? Fíli?" Kíli asked, more awake now, and sitting up.

"You're an idiot," Thorin muttered, "a goddamn idiot." The King hugged his nephew tightly, slipping into Khuzdul as he kept talking.

Even though the other dwarves knew about her relationship with the prince, she still felt like she was intruding on a private family moment. When Briar moved to slip out of the room, she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

"Where are you doing?" Fíli asked quietly.

"To go get Oin," Briar replied. The blond nodded and let her go, and the hobbit was back to running through Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head's up, this could easily tie into the next one, and the one after that. I have all three written, and technically, this is number 2. Next chapter is part 3, and the one after is part 1. Don't judge me for posting them out of order, I wrote them in the order I thought of them, and


	11. Pardon Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kíli/Briar

> _I’m a wreck and I know it,_  
>  And I tend to show it every chance that I get.  
> Butterflies in the skies, they just fly on by.  
> Yeah they’re making me sick.  
> They don’t flutter about, I’d do without.  
> All they do is kick.
> 
> \- "Pardon Me" - He Is We

* * *

 

With Erebor reclaimed and arrangements made for their kin in Ered Luin to return to the mountain, Briar had her work cut out for her.

Bilbo had gone back to the Shire with Gandalf long enough to make sure the Sackville-Bagginses were out of Bag End - leaving it to their cousin Drogo - and bringing some of their things back. Most of it would be clothes, but most of Bilbo's books, Briar's violin, as well as their mother's glory box would all be coming back, in addition to anything else they could take that Bilbo decided to grab last-minute.

Briar, on the other hand, had to learn how to be a princess. As the future Consort of the younger prince, the hobbit didn't really have a choice but to learn the ins and outs of dwarven culture, and how to act in a variety of situations that she would no doubt find herself in. Most of her time was spent in these lessons with Balin, while Dori took some of the rich fabric they found had survived, and made her a selection of gowns for formal occasions. The rest of it was spent in the library with Ori, once Thorin had given in and agreed teaching her Khuzdul would be a good idea; to make the council see that Kíli was determined, and wouldn't  give up on the hobbit, no matter what anyone else thought.

\-------------

The caravan was due to arrive any day, and in no way was Briar ready. She stumbled over her words, and her old, thick West Farthing accent began popping up again, making itself known every time the tiny hobbit opened her mouth. Not to mention how often she tripped over the hems of her long gowns. Shire dresses were typically just longer than knee-length, so almost touching the floor was a change that took some getting used to. Typically she would only have to wear them for formal occasions, but until Bilbo and Gandalf returned, they were all she had.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as the nearest guard (being as busy as she was, Briar hadn't had time nor the chance to remember -or learn, in most cases- the names of many of the dwarves from the Iron Hills that had stayed after the battle) announced that he could see the caravan approaching. They would reach the mountain in no more than a couple hours, and of course the entire company wanted to be there to greet them.

Briar imagined that she must have made quite the sight, standing there; a tiny, nervous hobbit in a deep blue dwarven gown, standing among royalty and warriors as they waited to greet their families.

The caravan eventually stopped, dwarves rushing to greet those at the gate. Breaking away from the lead, a dwarf that Briar silently assumed to be female approached them, visibly struggling not to grin excitedly. The dwarf (who looked a lot like Thorin, now that she was close enough for Briar to see the similarities in their appearance) embraced the King  in a tight hug before moving to the princes and doing the same, ruffling Kíli's hair when she pulled back.

"Mum," Kíli whined, scrunching up his face slightly as he fixed his hair. The dwarf just smiled before turning to the hobbit.

"L-Lady Dís," Briar greeted, stuttering as she curtsied. "Briar Baggins, at your service."

The princess smiled at her and laughed a bit. Briar's first thought was that she had done something wrong, and that Dís was laughing at her mistake. Her face flushed as she tried to figure out what that mistake would be, but couldn't come up with anything, besides her stuttering.

"There's no need to be so formal," Dís smiled warmly. "After all, unless I've been lied to, we'll be family soon enough."

\-------------

It took Briar a couple days to completely relax around her future mother-in-law, but she eventually got there.

She thanked the Valar that Kíli wasn't the heir, because that meant he would have had to sit in on council meetings instead of Fíli, and she would have had to go with him. Briar had met them often enough to know she didn't really like most of them, and they weren't fond of her. Within the whole council of 15 (excluding Thorin, Fíli, and Ori), the small hobbit only really got along with Balin. And until she did something in front of them to prove herself worthy of more than the superficial respect due to her position, chances were that it would stay that way.

\-------------

Briar and Kíli were married shortly after Bilbo returned to the mountain. A few alterations were made to the traditional ceremony to accommodate for the hobbits, such as the proceedings being done in Westeron (Briar was not yet fluent in Khuzdul, and her brother knew nothing in the language), and her having flowers braided into her hair instead of strings of fine gems.

All in all, it was an exciting event that managed to outdo a large number of Shire celebrations; even if Bilbo and Briar didn't want to admit it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part three of the three-part Kíli/Briar thing. Part one soon to follow, unless my carpal tunnel acts up and won't let me finish typing. If I can get it posted though, I'll be happy.
> 
> Note: I've only got a few more left that haven't been posted yet, so after a couple days, things are going to slow down.
> 
> Also, teachers at my school apparently don't realize that the computer lab exists, and so I can't normally use the computers in the library to type, so I'll use my free blocks to write more. Which means an extra 70 minutes that I don't have to spend writing when I get home.


	12. Face Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kíli/Briar
> 
> Minor sexual assault (since he didn't get very far)  
> Mentioned character death

> _Do you feel like a man when you push her around?_  
>  Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?  
> Well, I'll tell you, my friend, one day this world's gonna end  
> As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found
> 
> \- "Face Down" - The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

* * *

 

Before Bungo Baggins died, he had tried to have arrangements made for his daughter Briar to marry Marco Boffin. Even as she neared the end of her tween years, Briar exhibited behaviors that even her younger Took and Brandybuck cousins had long grown out of. He hoped that upon their marriage, Marco (who had never shown an inclination to leave the Shire) would be able to settle her down and make a proper hobbit out of the girl.

Bungo's wife Belladonna, however, knew full well that Briar absolutely despised Marco, and refused to force her daughter to marry him. Things went back to normal after that, with Briar running out the door in the morning, and returning a couple days later. She trailed mud and twigs into the smial, normally a couple arrows less in her quiver than when she left, and sometimes a pheasant or two stung over her shoulder. Briar may have been the only hobbit who regularly adventured past Bree, let alone _hunted_ , but Belladonna never complained. She knew her daughter would settle down with time, and had no intention to rush her.

Then came the Fell Winter. Bilbo and Briar would never forget the sight of their mother being torn to shreds by wolves that pulled at her insides in a cruel tug-of-war. Briar was only 30, and Bilbo was 45; he became the guardian of his sister, since she was still three years to adulthood.

When spring finally came, the snow melted and wolves retreated, there was a large funeral for all the lives that had been lost in the past months. 

Marco had not lost interest in Briar in the time Belladonna refused to let him near her. He hadn't even waited a day after the funeral before pursuing her again.

\-------------

In the five years that followed, Briar spent more and more time away. It was no longer unusual for her to be gone for as long as a week.

She often came home at night, using the kitchen door to attract as little attention as possible. The longer it took for Marco to find out she was back in Hobbiton, the better.

\-------------

 This time in particular, Briar could hear a lot more noise than she expected from down the hall. She attempted to call out to her brother, to let him know she was back before getting changed into something else, when a hand covered her mouth.

Marco spun her around and pushed her against the wall, kissing her roughly as his hands moved to her hips.

"Marco, get off!" she screamed, trying to push him away. The rest of the smial fell silent for a moment, but Marco paid the quiet no mind. He took Briar's quiver and threw it to the floor, removing her belt and sliding a hand under her tunic.

Briar clenched her eyes shut and continued to struggle, startling when he backed off. She opened her eyes just in time to see a dwarf (for there was no doubt between the heavy layers he wore, long hair, and the hint of a beard, that the stranger was a dwarf) yank Marco away, holding a knife against the hobbit's throat. He growled something that she couldn't hear, Bilbo moving to her side and a second dwarf pulling the first away from Marco, who quickly bolted.

"Briar," Bilbo said quietly, "go get cleaned up. Don't worry about rushing, take as much time as you need." She nodded, gathering her bow and arrows, putting them back in the quiver before rushing down the hall.

\-------------

She wasn't sure how much time had passed while she was in the bath, but when she walked into the dining room wearing a light green dress that she often wore when they had company, the dwarves were still there. The group numbered 13, not including Bilbo or Gandalf.

Briar smiled at the wizard, who nodded at her before introducing her to the dwarves. She recognized Kíli as the one who had pulled Marco off of her, and Fíli as the one who had stopped him from killing the hobbit.

Introductions aside, the dwarf who looked to be the oldest - Balin, if she remembered correctly - explained their mission. They were planning to retake the Lonely Mountain from the dragon that inhabited it, and would need a burglar to steal away the one thing that would help them amass the army needed to kill the beast.

"Of course, when were were told about Master Baggins being able to help us," Balin told her, "we hadn't anticipated that he had a wife he would be leaving behind if he were to join us."

"I'm his sister, actually," Briar corrected while Bilbo sputtered in shock. "And if anyone gets left behind, it'll be him. Sign me up."

Balin handed her the contract that Bilbo had earlier refused, Quickly glancing over it, Briar signed her name at the bottom.

"How difficult would it be to amend that to two burglars?" Bilbo asked. "I'd rather not let Briar go all that way alone if  I can help it."

Balin smiled and nodded understandingly, taking the contract and simply pluralizing a few words before handing it to Bilbo to sign.

\-------------

They left the next morning, and Briar hadn't missed the fact that her brother was the only one unarmed. However, he didn't know the first thing about fighting, so giving him a weapon was more of a waste. As long as he stayed near the others, he would be fine.

It also dawned on her that she may never return to the Shire; which meant that she would never have to see Marco again. As much as she knew she would miss her home during the adventure, not having to worry about avoiding the whole Boffin family and her gossipy cousin-in-law Lobelia brought a smile to the small hobbit's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's part one. Don't ask why I ended up writing this one last, because I don't know.


	13. Always Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fíli & Kíli (platonic)
> 
> Major character death.

 

> _We were tight knit boys_   
>  _Brothers in more than name_   
>  _You would kill for me_   
>  _And knew that I'd do the same_

> ...

> _We were opposites at birth_  
>  _I was steady as a hammer_  
>  _No one worried 'cause they knew just where I'd be_  
>  _And they said you were the crooked kind_  
>  _And that you'd never have no worth_  
>  _But you were always gold to me_

> \- "Always Gold" - Radical Face

* * *

For as long as anyone in Ered Luin could remember, Fíli and Kíli were always together. Even as grown dwarves, the two stubbornly continued to share a bed, and displayed many behaviours that one would see in a couple. Needless to say, rumors arose that their relationship was of a more than brotherly nature. No one other than they knew for sure, and they enjoyed confusing others, so they neither confirmed nor denied the false rumors.

Right from the start, it was obvious that they would be complete opposites. As expected, Fíli grew to be steady and dependable, taking after his father and older uncle. Kíli, meanwhile, was more of a drifter, floating from one thing to another sure as night and day, though his changes were unpredictable. He was impulsive and reckless, a stark contrast to his older brother's distant calculating nature. Like his mother, Kíli was never content with something for long, always on the search for something else to occupy his time and capture his interest.

They made a strange duo, the two of them. From the outside, it appeared that they had nothing in common. In actuality, they were very similar; they just had different ways of doing things.

For as long as anyone could remember, the brothers were inseparable. Which was why Thorin, with a grim humor, found it both ironic and fitting that they had died together, and also arranged for them to be buried together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, allow me to explain my use of two sections of lyrics for this. Normally I just use one, even if multiple parts inspired the fic. In this case, I picture the first part being from Kíli's point of view, and the second being from Fíli's.
> 
> Sorry, not sorry. I don't know. Don't worry, writing this killed me too.
> 
> And yes, this can be considered a prequel of sorts to "Iridescent." I half thought of it that way, which was why I decided on that ending.


	14. Poison & Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin/Nori

> _Oh your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine_  
>  _You think your dreams are the same as mine_  
>  _Oh I don't love you but I always will_
> 
> \- "Poison & Wine" - The Civil Wars

* * *

 

Their relationship was a complex one, skirting around everyone to keep it a secret. When Nori got caught stealing something, Dwalin had to do his job as a guard and track the thief down, but would do a few little things where he could to help him out the same night; although, most times there wasn't a need, and the cell was empty by the time he got there.

When Thorin brought up the mission to reclaim Erebor, Dwalin practically jumped at the chance to go. By the time they left the Blue Mountains, their company totaled in at 13. They were set to meet a prospective burglar in the Shire, and as a whole, were not supposed to show up at the hobbit's door more than one at a time. Though, Dwalin knew full well that Fíli and Kíli would show up together anyway.

Besides Thorin and his nephews, Dwalin wasn't sure who else would be part of the company. They never met all together, and weren't allowed to discuss the details or identities of participants in public.

It wasn't surprising when his brother arrived; Dwalin suspected that Balin was involved. The only dwarf whose presence had actually caught him off-guard was Nori. Neither party complained, even if they did glare at each other to maintain the illusion of outright loathing.

As time passed, they no longer had to fake such animosity. After all, it was to be expected that they would grow to at least tolerate each other while travelling across Middle Earth.

Still, they were never gentle with each other like most lovers. Everything between them was harsh words, scratching, and biting. It was confusing for them, let alone everyone else, but they wouldn't change it for anything. Their personalities mixed like poison and wine, clashing in a mental tug-of-war between wills. But this tumultuous balance was perfect for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is my first time really writing for either of them. But I had seen this dynamic between them in a few fics before, and find that it suits them.
> 
> By the way, I'm now taking requests for these, because I'm having fun with this, but I'm also running out of ideas on my own. I may not write all of them (I listen to the song on repeat while I write, so if I can't stand the song, that's a no-go), but it's hard to say for sure.


	15. The End of All Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin/Kirlun
> 
> Pre-quest and early-quest (BoFA may or may not be canon, it doesn't go that far in the timeline)

 

> _Whether near or far_  
>  _I am always yours_  
>  _Any change in time_  
>  _We are young again_
> 
> \- "The End of All Things" - Panic! At the Disco

* * *

 

Thorin had a stubborn pair of Lionhearts, there was no doubt about it.

Dorvur was the worst; cursing at anything that moved more often than not, and not often hesitating to say what he thought at that particular moment, no matter how crude or insulting it could be. For the longest time, Thorin had no idea how the dwarf managed to win over an elf, what with their high-and-mighty attitude. Needless to say, he was shocked when he learned how polite the guard could be around his wife and her family.

Kirlun was stubborn, and cursed just as violently as his father. The half-dwarf just didn't have much of a filter between his brain and mouth. He still did his best to remain civil, and the strain showed after a long day when he finally let himself relax.

On the rare occasion that Thorin did something his Lionheart didn't agree with, that was when the biggest difference in their personalities was shown. Dorvur would have confronted him right then, in front of everyone; Kirlun would wait until night, when it was just the two of them.

All reason had told Thorin that he shouldn't have found Kirlun attractive; he had watched him grow up alongside his nephews (who were both older than Kirlun), for Mahal's sake. Not to mention that the elf blood in his veins kicked in around 50, and Kirlun still looked like an adolescent more than 20 years later. Yet there he was, starting to court his Lionheart's older son who had turned 75 less than a week ago.

They had different feelings about skirting around Dorvur to keep their relationship a secret for the time being. While Kirlun found it exhilarating, their quick kisses stolen when no one was looking, and tender moments behind closed doors and around corners; Thorin found it nerve wracking, always listening for footsteps that would blow their cover.

Shortly before Kirlun turned 76, he finally relented to Thorin insisting that they ask Dorvur for his blessing, and stop sneaking around. The Lionheart had laughed, telling them he knew right from the start, and had been wondering when they would come to him. Amidst the couple's obvious embarrassment, he still gave them his blessing.

It was a good thing that they had gone to him when they did, because only a couple days later, Dorvur had sacrificed himself in an attempt on Thorin's life.

"Take care of Kirlun," had been his last words to the exiled King. It was a week before Kirlun could get out of bed on his own, and started eating normally again. His mother hadn't been able to manage on her own, and so returned to Rivendell; Kirlun's brother had gone with her.

They courted publicly for a year before marrying, waiting only the required minimum length of time before they were wed.

\-------------

Kirlun wasn't impressed when Thorin wouldn't let him go with the Company to reclaim Erebor. Thorin insisted it was because he didn't want to see him hurt or killed. Kirlun may have set a new record for how long one could go cursing every three out of four words.

Only days before leaving, Kirlun had finally relented, promising he wouldn't go with the others. Before that, he made a plan with Gandalf; Kirlun would go straight to Rivendell, and the wizard would find a way to trick the dwarves into going to the valley.

\-------------

Kirlun had been in Imladris for a week before the Company arrived. He had been beginning to believe that Gandalf hadn't been able to trick them, and they were already on their way through the Misty Mountains. When he returned with the guard from tracking down a pack of orcs, he knew he was wrong. The arrows that were in the orcs and wargs they found were of a dwarvish make; the ones Kirlun had been using at that point were elvish, so there wasn't the chance that they were left over from when he shot ahead. He concluded that Gandalf must have taken them through the hidden pass, and that they would be there when he got back.

And when he could see the courtyard, there they were.

Since he had agreed to help train a young colt, Kirlun hadn't been riding his own mare. Between that and the fact that he was wearing an elven helm, his identity was good as hidden. Yes, Kirlun was shorter than the elves, and had a short beard, but his twin brother had returned to the valley with their mother shortly after Dorvur passed. For all any of the dwarves knew, it could have just as easily been Mîwion; they weren't aware of the younger twin's aversion to violence of any kind.

With his identity still hidden at that point, Kirlun decided to surprise them at dinner. He dismounted and led the colt back to the stables, not removing his helm until he was out of sight.

\-------------

"I could have sworn I saw a dwarf among them when they were circling us," the hobbit (for he could tell that's what the creature must have been) said. Kirlun had overheard something about a burglar in the Shire, and assumed this must have been who Gandalf had been talking about.

"Probably just Mîwion," Kíli said, shrugging. "He's half-dwarf, half-elf, and came back here with his mother when his father was killed. Kirlun stayed behind in Ered Luin, since he was engaged."

When the hobbit didn't question anything, and Kirlun couldn't help but wonder how much the brothers had said about him.

Carefully, he slipped from behind the pillar he had ducked behind, and walked quietly towards the table. He caught Nori glancing up slightly, and motioned for the thief to be quiet.

"Obviously, you forget that Mîwion is less fond of violence than most, and wouldn't go hunting," Kirlun laughed, taking the empty spot between Thorin and Fíli. At least half the table jumped, and he just laughed harder.

"Kirlun, what are you doing here?" Thorin asked, leaning towards him slightly.

"I have family here, moron," Kirlun replied, smirking. "Am I not allowed to visit?"

Thorin sighed and shook his head, saying nothing. He really did have a stubborn Lionheart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mîwion's name does fit the canon guidelines for elf names, before you try and complain.  
> Mîw(Small/Tiny/Frail) + ion (Son of)  
> For the son of a dwarf, I think it's actually very appropriate. I was originally trying to find something that fit his personality more, but then I stumbled upon that gem, and couldn't help but use it.


	16. The Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frerin/Bilbo
> 
> Character death  
> Battle of Azanulbizar is a thing

> _It started out as a feeling_  
>  _Which then grew into a hope_  
>  _Which then turned into a quiet thought_  
>  _Which then turned into a quiet word_  
>  _And then that word grew louder and louder_  
>  _'Til it was a battle cry_  
>  _I'll come back when you call me_  
>  _No need to say goodbye_
> 
> \- "The Call" - Regina Spektor

* * *

 

There was something about the hobbit that Frerin found irresistible. The times where he had to travel back to Ered Luin for a couple weeks to prove to his family that he was still alive were far from what he wanted to be doing, but he didn't have a choice; he couldn't get any of the ravens they had left to go with him to take letters back, and Shire postal service never left the Shire.

The last trip, five years after he and the hobbit were married, he found out that the dwarves were meant to go to war. Frerin and Thorin were both convinced that trying to reclaim Moria was a suicide mission, but Thror and Thrain were determined; they had even gotten the armies of the other remaining dwarf kingdoms involved, so the princes were forced to go along with it as well.

Thankfully, Frerin was able to go back to the Shire to let his spouse know the situation. At that point, as he left the Blue Mountains behind him, it dawned on him that his family didn't even know if the hobbit was male or female. All they had was a name.

\-------------

"What!?" Bilbo cried, when Frerin told him about the impending war. "Frerin, isn't there some way you can get out of this?"

The dwarf could hear the desperation in his husband's voice as he shook his head. He pulled the hobbit close, holding him tightly. His fingers combed through curly honey-colored hair as Bilbo sniffed slightly, face buried in Frerin's shoulder.

"I'll come back when it's all over, I promise," Frerin murmured quietly.

\-------------

He didn't come back. Bilbo didn't know how long he waited for the blond to return. Finally, a knock at the door got his attention. He raced to answer it, but froze when the door was open; there was indeed a dwarf standing there, but said dwarrow certainly wasn't his.

"Bilbo Baggins?" the dwarf asked, pulling a package from his cloak when the halfling nodded. The wrapping around the package fell away, revealing a heavy dwarf-made sword. Frerin's.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Master Baggins," the dwarf said, handing Bilbo the sword. "Prince Frerin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, fell as a member of the first vanguard, slain during the battle of Azanulbizar by Azog the Defiler."

Bilbo was practically numb after that. It took him a few more weeks to even begin to accept that Frerin wasn't coming back. He kept the bead and braid in his hair for another two years before finally taking it out. Since then, the bead remained on a thin braided leather cable around his neck, always tucked under his shirt.

\------------

Ten years after receiving news of Frerin's death, Bilbo wasn't exactly pleased to find dwarves spilling into his home, one by one, then two, then eight at once, right on top of each other. It was dragging up feelings that Bilbo didn't even realize were still there, and it took everything the hobbit had to not break down in front of his guests, unwanted as they were.

He had almost slammed the door shut as soon as he saw that mane of messy blond hair. The dwarf standing there looked exactly like Frerin (glancing down nervously, he saw the dwarf seemed to even have the same throwing axes strapped to his boots), and it hurt to look at him.

\------------

Of course he had to end up agreeing to go on that blasted adventure instead of essentially going back to wallowing in misery. Still, it was torture when even a glance in Fíli's direction made his heart ache with loneliness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, it's another multi-part. There's another part that I've gotten written (I'm officially 14 ficlets behind for typing, not including this) that will be posted eventually. Don't worry, it's only a two-parter, and they're actually in order this time around.


	17. Little Do You Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frerin/Bilbo
> 
> Referenced character death  
> Battle of Azanulbizar happened

> _Little do you know_   
>  _How I'm breaking while you fall asleep_   
>  _Little do you know_   
>  _I'm still haunted by the memories_   
>  _Little do you know_   
>  _I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece_
> 
> \- "Little Do You Know" - Alex & Sierra

* * *

 

"Forgive me if it is not my place," Balin started, "but may I ask why you know so much about our culture and customs? We as a race are secretive by nature, so it is strange for another to know as much as you do."

Bilbo winced slightly as he stared into the fire. He had been hoping that the topic wouldn't come up, but knew it couldn't be avoided.

"I had been married to a dwarf for a time," he murmured. Every other noise in the camp except for the fire crackling stopped; apparently the rest of the company had been eavesdropping, and no one had expected to hear that as an answer. Which no doubt meant there would be more questions, so the hobbit figured he might as well keep going before they got the chance to start pestering him.

"He arrived in the Shire a little over 20 years ago, when I was almost 30. It was actually rather funny when he realized I was still a tween, funnier still when he found out how old I was, with hobbits' shorter lifespans and all. He would still stop in regularly until I came of age at 33, and we did grow rather close. I hadn't even been an adult for a week before he started courting me, and we were wed two and a half years later, as per Shire custom."

Bilbo hadn't realized he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he found all 13 dwarves listening with varying degrees of attentiveness.

"What happened?" Kíli asked quietly, as if looking for confirmation of a question he already knew the answer to.

"We only had the next five years together," Bilbo replied. He struggled not to start crying as the emotions flooded in again, threatening to overwhelm him. "He would still leave for a couple weeks every few months; to prove to his family that he hadn't gone and gotten himself killed, he told me. On his return from the last trip out, he told me he had to go to war. I tried to talk him out of it, to find a way to stay, but he wouldn't listen."

When he next looked up, Bilbo saw the glances shared between Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin.

"If not for the fact that he could be mistaken for a walking armoury, or how many mornings I woke up to find him training in the garden, I probably would have never thought of him as a warrior. He was always goofing off and cracking jokes, and we'd get into these playful arguments about pipeweed, and what kinds were better than others. He was nothing like the dwarves I had heard about growing up. He looked so much like you, Fíli, that for a half a second, I thought you were him when you showed up at my front door; I almost slammed the door right then, because I had spent the past 10 years believing he was dead."

He paused again, noticing the blond freeze, and a few more glances shared as Fíli, Bifur, and Dori seemed to catch on to something as well.

"Would it be wrong to conclude he died in the Battle of Azanulbizar?" Dori asked, as more glances were shared. Bilbo shook his head.

"No, it wouldn't be," he replied, voice starting to break a bit, "because that's right. I don't know who the dwarf that came to my home was, I was too grief-stricken to even ask for his name, but he brought my husband's sword back for me. He said that he was a member of the first vanguard, and was killed by the pale orc. That's why I asked about Azog's fate earlier on; I wanted to know if my husband had been avenged."

At that point, everyone except for Kíli was tense, staring at the fire or the ground.

"What was his name?" Thorin asked, his voice grim. It was as if he were confirming a silent suspicion.

"Frerin," Bilbo replied weakly. Thorin and Fíli winced the hardest, and Kíli let out a choked sob.

"I should have realized it before," the young prince whimpered, curling against his brother as a small child in distress would their mother.

Bilbo opened his mouth to say something, obviously confused, when Balin leaned in.

"Frerin was Thorin's younger brother," the old dwarf explained as the hobbit's eyes widened in shock.

"He never talked about his family much," Bilbo murmured. "I didn't realize..." Part of him had a hard time registering that this meant he had two nephews. He had been travelling with them for a little over a month, and had no idea that they were technically family. Not to mention the fact that they were 27 and 32 years older than him.

After a while, Fíli, Kíli, and Thorin moved to sit closer to him, staying there in an almost comforting silence.

"Since Frerin never told me much about his family," Bilbo spoke softly, "would you three be willing to do the honors?"

It started off as a more solemn conversation, but it didn't take long for them to cheer up, laughing at tales of what Thorin and Frerin had gotten into in their young, and how many times their sister Dís had to get them out of trouble. Fíli and Kíli seemed to find those ones the most entertaining.

Bilbo of course had other stories about Frerin's antics in the Shire, from his failed attempts at cooking (that resulted in not just burning the food, but outright catching it on fire), to the time Bilbo had to actually hide Frerin's boots, weapons, armor, and extra layers so the dwarf would stop scaring the neighbors simply by being there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't help but feel like I read something along the same lines as this a while ago, but I honestly can't remember. If I did, it would have been on here. If anyone knows of anything that has roughly the same plot line, could you please let me know so I can give credit if it's what I'm thinking it is?


	18. 100 Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin/Bilbo
> 
> BoFA Fix-It

> _I'm 99 for a moment_   
>  _And dying for just another moment_   
>  _And I'm just dreaming_   
>  _Counting the ways to where you are_
> 
> \- "100 Years" - Five for Fighting

* * *

 

Bilbo wasn't sure what was going on when he woke up back in Bag End. Last thing he remembered, he was on an elven ship on the way to Valinor. Needless to say, he was in complete shock when he looking in the mirror; why did he look like he was 50 again? And why did the calendar suggest it was April 25th?

"April 25th... Oh no..." Bilbo muttered. He remembered, clear as day, that April 25th was the day Gandalf arrived, marking up his front door, and arranging for 13 dwarves to pour into his smial. Everything was exactly the same as it was that day, and to call it unnerving was an understatement.

"This must be a dream," the hobbit told himself, "I am not reliving this over again." Throughout the morning, he continued to repeat the words to himself. Well, until he went outside for a smoke to calm his nerves, and a large shadow obstructed his view. Of course the wizard would show up right then.

\-------------

This time around, for Bilbo was no longer convinced that it was just a dream, he would be prepared. He had gone down to the market to buy more meat than he normally would have, and fewer vegetables. All afternoon, he was in the kitchen cooking and baking. On multiple occasions, the hobbit's mind would wander to the dwarves that would soon start showing up; remembering what they liked and didn't like, and trying to make enough that everyone was happy. The less damage done to his home, the better.

Still, there were three specific dwarves that he couldn't get out of his head.

Fíli and Kíli had died long before their time, only 83 and 78 in a race that could easily live to be 250. The brothers still had so much time ahead of them, they didn't deserve their fate. They were innocent, barely more than dwarflings when they ended up following their uncle to their deaths.

Thorin had been getting old at that point, even if the King didn't look or act like it. Still, Bilbo knew that a lot could happen in the 55 years that Thorin could have expected for certain. And despite all better judgement, he realized that he had ended up falling in love with the dwarf; even if it did take a total of 80 years and a chance to fix things to realize it.

\-------------

Try as he might, it was impossible for Bilbo to change much of the course of their journey without giving himself away and revealing that he knew exactly what was going to happen, and when. And so he played along, doing everything almost exactly like he had before. Only a few things were done differently; he trained more, for one, instead of always sitting around the fire with Ori and Bombur. If he also ended up a little less flustered by Bofur's songs, or Fíli and Kíli's jokes, he was the only one that would know.

\-------------

When the time came where he had taken the Arkenstone, and gave it to Bard and Thranduil, Bilbo did that nothing like he had done before. Instead of taking it directly to them, he left it outside of Dale before returning to the mountain. The next day, when it was brought before Thorin, he didn't confess to being involved. He knew better this time, and had no intention of almost being thrown to his death again.

"How do you know it wasn't one of the gems stuck to Smaug?" the hobbit suggested. "They could have sent someone to gather what they could, and found it."

"Well let them use whatever is at the bottom of the lake, then," the King replied loudly. After the rest of the company questioned about the Arkenstone, however, he added, "We will send down as much gold as our remaining ponies can carry, in return for the Arkenstone."

Bilbo let out a sigh of relief; this part of the war had been averted, now they just had to deal with the orcs that were bound to appear at any moment.

\-------------

His training proved to be more useful than he originally thought it would be, as Bilbo stubbornly followed the dwarves up Ravenhill. He went with the princes to scout the watchtower, seeing if there was a way to prevent their deaths as well. It didn't take long to find that opportunity.

"There's not enough room to fight in here," he told them. "Let's go, it would be too easy for this to be a trap."

With more resistance than he had hoped for, Bilbo managed to drag the princes out. Thankfully, convincing Thorin and Dwalin to leave had been easy enough, since they were just about to get the three of them and do so anyway.

\-------------

The battle was still won, and the line of Durin lived on. Bilbo himself had assured this, as he leapt at Azog and drew Sting across the orc's throat as soon as he joined the fight.

Still, there was now the threat of gold sickness to deal with; Thorin had the Arkenstone, and was surrounded by treasure, after all. It would be far too easy for him to simple slip into a relapse, and no one knew what would happen if that came to pass. 

The company's rewards were moved into vaults deep within the mountain, and the rest was taken to the treasury, which was kept under lock and key. Only Gloin, Balin, and Ori had free access, as the kingdom's Financial Advisor, Chief Advisor, and Royal Scribe. There was a common idea that keeping Thorin away from anything made of gold would help keep the sickness at bay, so that was the easy part.

Bilbo quickly learned that the feelings he still held for the King through all these trials and perils were returned. Because of this, the hobbit couldn't bring himself to leave Erebor when he originally planned to. Instead, he gave in and chose to stay, while Gandalf had volunteered to return to the Shire to get Bilbo's things and to make sure that Bag End would go to the hobbit's cousin Drogo. The idea had been brought up to keep the smial as a country home, as aristocrats were wont to do; however, the other side of Middle Earth (not to mention a few months travel) was deemed too far away, and so he would (with some reluctance) give it up.

As far as the wedding went, it was a good thing that Bilbo personally preferred the look of silver over gold. He only had one bead in his hair; the one Thorin braided into his curly locks during the ceremony. The rest were replaced with flowers, as such was hobbit tradition and the reason why he had insisted on waiting until late spring.

\-------------

This new way of things playing out hadn't been part of Bilbo's plan, he had just wanted to keep Thorin and his nephews alive, but he wasn't complaining.

Part of him would often wonder if Frodo would still end up an orphan, and knew that if Primula and Drogo were to still drown in the Brandywine, he wouldn't be able to take his little cousin in; Erebor was too far for a small child to travel in any sort of company. Even though Bilbo was no longer presumed dead, it was known that he wouldn't be returning to the Shire.


	19. Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fíli/Kirlun

> _Then I see your face_   
>  _I know I'm finally yours_   
>  _I find everything I thought I lost before_   
>  _You call my name_   
>  _I come to you in pieces_   
>  _So you can make me whole_
> 
> \- "Pieces" - Red

* * *

Kirlun wasn't sure how he expected the battle to end, but he knew that he didn't expect to fail as a Lionheart.

Thorin, Fíli, Kíli; all three of them were dead, and he was helpless to stop it from happening.

Staying for the funeral had been hard enough as it was - staying in Erebor was impossible. Dain didn't want a Lionheart, and so he allowed the half-dwarf to leave during the small hours before dawn. Even though he had the King's permission, however, it would still be considered treason for Kirlun to leave the Lonely Mountain alone as he did. Never again would he be able to set foot in Dwarven lands, and he knew it.

Yet with the sun rising behind him as he left the mountain's shadow, the thought did not bother him as much as it should have.

\-------------

Rivendell wasn't supposed to be bleak. Peaceful, yes, but not dismal. Everything he once found joy in held no interest anymore, and Mîwion suspected that the passing of a certain blond prince had a large role to play.

Time dragged on wearisomely, always taking longer than it should have. Each day felt like a lifetime as it passed, each one longer than before.

Heartbreak -for that's exactly what it was- was meant to get better with time, the pain was meant to heal. That's what Kirlun had been told; what he thought he supposed to believe. It never did. Every day he woke up alone and remembered he would never see that wild mane of golden hair again, the void only grew. The brunet quickly became and empty shell, alive though emotionally dead.

It wasn't just the King and Princes that Azog had taken that dreadful day on Ravenhill; the Orc had taken Kirlun's very will to live as well.

Only a year passed, but it felt like forever to the half-elf as he began to steadily fade. It was a known fact that elves could die from strong negative emotions that won't go away, but it was thought that the resilience in his dwarf blood would cancel it out.

In the end, it appeared that that logic was false. In his inability to move on, to heal, Kirlun would meet that very fate. The thought was an oddly comforting one, as he looked out over the valley from his bed.

The next time he closed his eyes, he didn't open them again.

\-------------

He woke up in a great hall of stone, alone except for the sounds of his breathing and his pounding heart. How he had ended up in the Halls of Waiting, he wasn't sure. After all, he had essentially abandoned his post, which should have made sure he was never allowed into the final resting place of his father's kin.

Footsteps drew his mind away from his introspection, and the large doors grated open. Kirlun's breath caught in his throat as messy blond hair poked into the room, framing a face he never thought he'd see again.


End file.
